


If I Could See Your Face Once More

by captain_bucky_writesaswell



Category: Queen of the South
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Jeresa, i miss them, prompted, secret meeting, winter break writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:49:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_bucky_writesaswell/pseuds/captain_bucky_writesaswell
Summary: “She closes her eyes and breathed him in. His scent reminding her of her home, with him. When she opened them, he was gone. Like a thief in the night”{S4 speculation}





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you bellxmy-blake on tumblr for the prompt “i would love a fic kind of s4 speculation.. anything with james meeting up with teresa in secret to still see her i would like” !

Four months is a long time to be cooped up in a CIA compound. It wasn’t a prison, nor a house. More like somewhere in between. Somewhere that only select government internals and their ‘guests’ knew of. He was only here, and not in a prison cell, because Devon Finch knew he could be useful.

For the first two weeks after his departure from Teresa’s business, he was in a cell. A small room of four walls and no windows, isolated and cold. There was a bed to sleep on which could have served a better purpose as a rock, although James was used to sleeping in some rough places. Some jailhouse slop that they called food and water would be brought to him twice a day, and he would be taken out handcuffed three times a day to the bathroom. It wasn’t a good two weeks, but he didn’t complain. Didn’t say a word. This was the start of his retribution for making a mess of the final run he did for Devon.

Suzie. He never stopped thinking about her. That night. When the house exploded he watched as her tiny body was flown backwards through the air, landing on the brick walkway leading up to the house. He still sees her face when he closes his eyes. Her head split open as he kneels by her side, hoping for any signs of life. He tried to save her, tried to restart her heart. But it was too late. Then the sound of sirens broke his attention. He drove. Sped away from everything and ended up in the middle of nowhere at 2 am. He pulled up near an abandoned metal barrel, throwing it into the trunk of his SUV. He carried on driving for another half an hour before he took off his clothes and burned them in the barrel. He swore his heart stopped for a minute as he watched them go up in flames. Standing too close, he could feel the heat almost burning his own skin. He guessed that’s how they felt, how she felt. As their house went up in flames. He’d killed people before, but never like this. He’d always made a point of being methodical, clean. Using a single bullet to take out his victims. But this, this job was always going to end differently. When he got back into the truck, he didn’t know what to do, where to go. He scratched his forehead too firmly as he felt a tear fall down his cheek, before slamming his hands onto the steering wheel over and over again until his palms were red raw. This was when he decided that it was the end. He had to get out, away. He’d heard about the contract on ‘la princesa’ and had hoped that one day he’d be able to come back to her. The events of that night were the perfect catalyst for him to leave.

He always knew it wouldn’t last long. He knew he’d find her and then fate would find some way of tearing them apart again. And now he’s here. In this compound.

After two weeks they moved him to this other location. Maybe his lack of backchatting or complaint had earned him this reward.

The compound was different to the cell. He was still pretty much on his own, but in a more tolerable environment. His room was more like a room and not a cell. He had a reinforced window and a basic toilet and sink, with a cot that could actually be slept on. He was allowed out for two hours a day in the beginning to ‘work’. Some days he’d be in the kitchen, peeling vegetables with a few other ‘guests’. Most days though, he’d be in the garage, supervised of course. He’d clean whatever CIA vehicles were brought in, keep them maintained. He thought it an odd and risky job to be given to a prisoner, but Devon seemed to trust him.

After cooperating for a while, Devon soon appeared at his door. Stood, hands in pockets in the closed doorway, two bodyguards waiting just on the other side.

“I have a job for you, James”

“You want be back to peeling potatoes?” He threw back sarcastically.

“Not quite, its something that requires your... particular set of skills”.

That phrase, particular set of skills, caused James’ eyes to flick up from the ground to the wall. There was only really one set of skills that Devon Finch, rather, the CIA was after from James.

Unbeknownst to James, they sent him on a dummy run, a job to prove that he could be trusted to come back after the job was done. Devon had been sure to reinforce the metaphorical target on James’ own back if he didn’t return, and James knew full well what the consequences would be.

James did the first run, a test. And he came back to the meeting spot just as planned. This earned him more jobs, more low level targets that people higher up needed dealing with. And he didn’t complain, hardly ever said a word.

There were plenty of times where he could have easily taken out the agents he had to meet with and run away, run to her... wherever she was. But he was done with running from the CIA.

Around 40 runs later, he was given access to a tiny government safe house, an apartment to live in. A small piece of freedom. Of course, he was always watched, always had people following him every time he looked over his shoulder.

* * *

She meant what she said when she told him “I’m gonna miss you”. She thought that she would be alright, get over him once they had landed and gotten settled in France. But she never did. And now she’s here 7 months after he left, and she’s more alone than she ever has been before. Like half of her heart - half of her world is missing. She’d had boyfriends, a couple when she was younger, then Güero. But none of them were like James at all. He was different. And she missed him so much. She tried to replace him in her bed once or twice, only to have the void in her heart grow even larger. It wasn’t the same. It was never going to be the same. 

She had Pote and Javier with her to keep her company, keep her safe. Pote had noticed the change in her, he knew it was because James left. Javier was oblivious to most things, but he kept her grounded. He proved himself trustworthy as a near enough replacement for James as she would allow, though Javier wasn’t as involved in the business as James was, or anywhere near as involved with Teresa as James was. It was strictly business and the occasional celebratory drink between Teresa and Javier.

 

A knock came on the door to her living room. One of her men, carrying an envelope.

“There’s no address” Pote said as he took it from the man, “how’d it get here?” He questioned.

“Some guy came and put it under a stone at the end of the driveway, one of our guys almost ran over it as he was coming back. That’s all I know.”

“Thanks” Pote said, turning and shutting the door.

“What is it?” Teresa asked from across the room, her knees tucked up onto the sofa as she tries to get some work done.

“I don’t know, a letter. It’s got your name on it but nothing else.”

Teresa put her laptop down beside her, got up and started walking over to Pote and the letter.

“You want me to open it?”

She was about to respond but then she saw it. From him.

“It’s from James” her eyes widen.

“How’d you know?”

“That’s his writing”

She took it from his hands, shaking, breathing faster and heart racing. He didn’t write much of anything, but from the little handwriting she saw him do, she could immediately recognise it again.

She peeled at the edges and opened it a little too forcefully as something fell to the ground. It fell face down, and Pote bent to pick it up, noticing the inscription on the back. He handed it to her, his heart slowly breaking for her, and began to back away gradually from the room.

She steadied a breath as she read the reverse side;

“ J x ” was all it said.

His initial and kiss enough for her to begin to well up, her tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She turned it over.

A photograph. A photograph of the two of them. It was Teresa’s idea but the picture was taken by James, the morning after their second time sleeping together. It’s simple and sweet, his arm around her as she lays bare on his chest, both of their eyes looking towards James’ phone’s camera. Their soft smiles sitting wide across their faces.

Teresa stares at the image for a minute or so, remembering that night, remembering him. His touch, his kiss, his gentle strength. Then she brings it to her chest, holding it against her. She misses him so much. Something in her made her turn around and move to the window. Maybe it was the night sky, knowing that they were underneath the same one, wherever he was. She stood by the window as the couple of stray tears fell down her face. She’d never love a man like him again.

“Teresita, are you okay?” Pote’s voice came from the corner of the room.

She nodded gently as she looked up to the stars.

“Yeah, I’m fine” she said solemnly, gripping the photo to her chest... to her heart.

* * *

Two months had passed since he was last here. He knew that there was a chance he could be shot by one of her men, but he couldn’t wait any longer, he had to see her. 

 

Teresa had had a long, rough day straightening out a couple of deals that she’d been working on for the last week or so. A relaxing, hot bath had been the first thing on her list to do when she came back to the house.

It was dark, probably around 1am. Teresa came walking through from her en suite bathroom into her bedroom, using her hands and a small towel to gently ring out her hair, wearing nothing but her short satin robe. She walks straight over to her dresser table when she pauses for a second, feeling a faint breeze on the back of her legs. She continues to quietly hum a faint tune as she places the towel down onto the dresser. She opens a small drawer and pulls out a hand gun, turning around and aiming it up into the dark corners of her large bedroom towards the window, all in one swift movement. Almost immediately a desperate voice comes from the other side.

“Woah! Woah! Woah, Teresa! It’s me-”

Teresa thought she heard it correctly, but she couldn’t be sure.

Then he was there, stepping forward closer to the light coming from the lamp by her side, his hands up in defence.

“It’s me” he pleads.

She’s in shock, this can’t be happening. Her hand begins to tremble as she holds up her gun.

“James” she whispers his name faintly.

“I’m here” he steps ever closer, so that he’s just a mere few feet away, hovering his hand up over her gun.

In a quiet cry and exhaled breath, she lowers the gun and drops it to the ground, moving forward quickly to wrap her arms around the back of his neck. She buries her face into his shoulder and he does the same too, a hand around her waist and the other on the back of her head in her hair.

“James” She stutters again, still not believing he’s here.

“I know, I know” he reassures her, gripping on tighter around her waist.

She pulls herself away to look into his eyes. He looks tired, ragged. Like he hasn’t slept in weeks, maybe months. His hair is a little longer yet his beard still looks the same. Her hands come to find his cheeks. His skin feels rougher. The complete opposite to his hands on her waist.

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have time to explain”

“James?”

“-I can’t. And I don’t have long.”

She doesn’t understand, sensing that something is wrong, but she nods anyway. He moves his hand to rub a lonely tear that’s fallen to her jaw.

“Someone is coming for you Teresa, you need to leave this house now.”

“What? James? How do you know this?”

“I can’t explain. But you’re not safe here anymore Teresa.”

She shakes her head, speechless. Taking a step back to bring some perspective to the moment.

“I promise I will explain as soon as I can, when you’re safe”. He looks deep into her eyes, a promise is a promise, and he always keeps his word.

She sighs heavily. The man she loves and longs for is right in front of her, and he is telling her that she has to leave. Teresa knows in her heart that he wouldn’t lie to her. So now she’s on the run... again.

The ruggedness of James forces the golden questions to her lips “Where have you been all this time? Are you alright?”

He purses his lips and gives a heavy sight, dropping his glance away from her, “this isn’t about me. I don’t know if you trust me or not anymore, but you have to. Please” he begs her to understand.

The room stays silent as she looks into his weary eyes. Regretting the distance she’s created, now and those 9 months ago.

She steps forward, gently placing her hands to hold on to his face.

“I’ve missed you” she whispers.

He sighs, “I missed you too”. He runs his thumb over her cheek bone, then hesitantly goes to place a gentle kiss to her lips. She reaches up on her toes to meet him, a hand on his face and the other gripped onto the neck of his black hoodie. He needn’t hesitate no more.

When they part he places another kiss to her forehead.

“Do you trust me?”

Teresa responds without a doubt “Yes”

She closes her eyes and breathed him in. His scent reminding her of her home, with him. When she opened them, he was gone. Like a thief in the night.

He doesn’t need to steal her heart away when he already owns it.

* * *

“Where is she James?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Miss Mendoza”

“Teresa? I don’t know where she is I haven’t seen her since I left Phoenix”

Devon laughs

“Ha! Oh really? See, we’ve been following her since Phoenix, and a few days ago she packed up her things from where she was living in France and moved. We’ve lost her.”

“Well then you should have done things better and not lost her.” James snaps back, an aggressive side to him that doesn’t usually come out in words.

Devon gives him a glance, and then a glance at his body guard, who steps forward and clocks James straight in the face with his fist... embellished rings on his fingers and all.

“I think you tipped her off about our movements James, you knew where she was and you warned her.”

James spits his blood to the floor and comes back to Devon;

“How could I do that?”

“You were in France until yesterday, I believe.”

“Yes, working a job. A job I’ve been working on for three months, why would I compromise that?” He’s impatient, fed up, trying to cover his tracks.

“You tell me Romeo?”

Devon silences him.

“You still love her James, after all these months, after everything you’ve sacrificed for her?”

James composes himself, into soldier mode.

“I told you that she would be safe as long as she was useful to us. She’s made a deal, a deal that doesn’t go in our favour. And now that she’s no longer useful, she has to go.”

James bites back everything he wants to say, his anger bubbling awayinside. He stares past Devon, his blood red eyes fixed squarely on the wall ahead. And he accepted it, the fact that he now probably was never going to be able to get away again. No more jobs, no more ‘freedom’. Back to being in a cell. And he risked it all.

For her.

 

 

 


	2. If I Could See Your Face Once More (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> { “You think this is a bad idea?” She asks.
> 
> Holstering her gun into her waistband.
> 
> “I think that I can’t stop you, no matter how hard I try.” }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you wanted another chapter... so I have another chapter   
> (even though this was only supposed to be a one shot... oh well)  
> :)

From where they were a mile away atop of a lonely hill, they could see the flames rising to the sky.

“How did you know they were coming?”

She stares forward into the smoke. He was right.

“Teresa?” Pote insisted, but got no acknowledgement or response. He moves closer, intimidation might force an answer -

“The CIA don’t just turn up at our door for no reason Teresa”.

Her eyes flick up.

CIA? They were wearing vests. How could she have missed it? No. James can’t be-

Pote’s phone buzzed.

“Javier, he’s got the safe house supplies. We need to go.”

Teresa takes a sharp breath in and out. A pain in her chest rising and falling with the air.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

A dark, blurry haze. 

Sometimes he wonders why he’s still alive. For leverage? Maybe.

Devon knows that one day she’ll come.

He knows that one day he’ll be used against her. This he knew from the start of it all.

The pain, it never leaves. Days, weeks, months. It’s like a nightmare which just sits in the corner of his cell, waiting, tormenting him.

The nightmare creeps up, hovers over his body all day and all night. Too close to his face. Too close to his ribs.

It has its fill of him and then retreats. It’s not scared, it’s never scared. It needs to rest.

In the corner of the cell.

Arms. He remembers them breaking. The drop to the floor and the shatter. The darkness breaking under the tread.

A dark, blurry haze.

* * *

“You think this is a bad idea?” She asks.

Holstering her gun into her waistband.

“I think that I can’t stop you, no matter how hard I try.”

Teresa’s lips picked up in the corner.

It had taken a couple of weeks and some clever hacking to find this place.

And they had one shot to get this right.

Or they would all end up dead.

* * *

This building has a feeling of ghosts. It’s cold. A chill hangs in the air like something unspeakable has happened.

And they fought. Her and all of her men.

They fought like hell to get to the room where they are now.

Then small reflections of light in the corner catch her eye. She moves closer.

“Teresa-" Pote warns her. Stay safe Teresa.

Her breathings gets shallower as she recognises their signal.

His broken shades. The arms split in two and the dark glass fragmented all around.

Then she sees the door in the corner. Her hands raising her gun up towards it.

“Pote-" she gestures towards the door with the barrel of her gun. He's soon stood beside her.

“You ready?”

She turns her head to look at him, giving a nod.

Pote steps forwards and takes a breath. There could be a room full of armed soldiers and they wouldn’t even stand a chance.

Teresa waits in anticipation, watching the doorway from which they have just come from.

Pote shoots the lock on the door and kicks it open.

She holds her breath as she expects to hear gunfire.

But then there’s nothing. Not a sound, except-

“Teresa”

Pote’s voice is softer than it should be.

She turns and steps through the doorway. And everything stops.

 

“NO NO NO!” she rushes to him, almost stumbling to the ground at his side - “James- no, no, James?”

Her heart beats a mile a minute. Her hands shaking as they hover over his skin. Lying on the ice cold concrete. 

He’s hurt, broken. That much is obvious. The blood, the bruises. It makes her cry. He’s barely recognisable.

Tears stinging her eyes. She's too late.

Her hand reaches out to his shoulder. Careful.

The sensation startles him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. His body immediately jumps into fight mode though his pain tells him to do otherwise.

He grabs at her hand on his shoulder and almost pushes her to the ground when - “James!”

He stops, still on the ground.

And then he looks at her. Recognises her.

The tension in his face drops to relief.

“Teresa?”

So quiet, so broken.

She nods - “I’m here”, in a voice cracking with saddened joy.

All of the breath escapes from his body as he looks into her eyes. So warm. So much like home.

She can see all of the worry in his eyes just dissipate away.

In his exhaustion he drops fully to the ground, with Teresa catching him before he falls.

She pulls him up into her lap, tears escaping down her cheeks.

“Its okay, I’ve got you-”

She cries a soothing hush as his hair presses into her chin.

“I’ve got you now, you’re okay-”

She holds him to her chest, a hand placed on his cheek whilst her other arm wraps around to his shoulder, keeping him as upright as she can.

Rocking gently back and forth.

“You’re safe now”

Her heart shatters like glass into a million pieces as she hears a cry come from him, and he falls into her chest.

He’s safe.

The million broken pieces of her heart each split in two when his bloodied and broken hand slowly and shakily comes up to touch her wrist. The rough skin on his finger brushes against her thumb and it reminds her of how they once were.

How his hands used to touch her and all the rest of the world went away.

 

“Teresa?”

Her eyes look up to Pote standing in the doorway, his face more solemn than she expected.

Then he sighs.

“Let’s get him home.”

She nods. Her chin quivering as she tries to keep back the rest of her tears.

Home.

James hears it too, _home_. With her.

His unsteady sigh of relief shows his appreciation.

“I take it you found my glasses then.” His split lip twitches up in the corner.

Typical James. Making jokes after near death experiences.

Still, it made her smile too. Even laugh a little.

So she pulled him a little closer.

And he held onto her a little tighter.

* * *

She watched him as they travelled along the road. 

He lay with his head in her lap for a few hours until he woke up. Then he insisted that he would sit up on his own.

Stubborn as always.

His hand clutched around a few of his ribs.

She tried to look past the bruises. To see him underneath.

She didn’t know if the James she once knew was still underneath these scars or not.

But then he turned his head to her, and he looked at her the way that he always had done. And she knew that James was still there.

_Her James_.

His eyes began so sting when he said a small “thank you” under his quivering breath.

Teresa didn’t have any words. He didn’t need to thank her. So she nodded her head gently.

She moved her hand next to his on the seat between them.

It wasn’t too long before James wrapped his pinkie around hers.

Keeping them locked tight together.

Their unspoken thing was still there.

After all these months.

She loves him.

And he really fucking loves her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw well yeah, that's all for this one :)  
> come hang with me on tumblr @ captainbucky-yt while we wait for season 4 :D

**Author's Note:**

> I normally don’t like to leave writing on a cliff hanger but I liked this little cliff hanger :)


End file.
